Covenant with the Beast
Sample Chapter

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The following is excerpted from Covenant with the Beast (© 1997 Hearthstone Publishing, Ltd.)

The morning sun had already heated the tarmac at the Ben-Gurion airport in Tel Aviv to the point that the tower appeared wavy and distorted in the distance. I whispered a curse. I hated the desert. The tires of the big airliner screeched in protest as they made contact with the hot pavement, and the jet engines roared briefly, slowing the plane to taxi speed. Henry sat across the aisle, staring out the opposite window and mirroring my glum mood.

"Welcome to Israel," Henry said. Then his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his back pocket. "Wilson here. Good. We're on the runway now. Be there in five." Henry snapped the phone shut and said, "Limo's here. They'll meet us at the gate."

I nodded and looked out the window again. "It's been a long time, Henry."

"You haven't been here since the war, have you?"

"No," I said, then shuddered. "What a mess that was."

As soon as Henry and I settled into the back seat of the limo, the driver floored the accelerator, causing the tires to screech briefly in protest.

"Are we in a hurry?" I said to the driver.

"My instructions are to get you gentlemen to Jerusalem as quickly as possible."

Henry chuckled. "Sit back and enjoy the ride, Thomas."

When we reached the Old City, Henry and I pushed through the crowd in our usual ways. I ducked in and through openings like a running back determined to reach the end zone, and Henry played the part of a defensive lineman, shoving all obstacles out of the way of his hulking progress. Our individual methods had served us well over the years, with Henry earning more return shoves and curses than I had. Fortunately for Henry, few people, after getting a good look at him, seemed motivated to do more than that.

Making my way to the police line through the close-knit crowd that swayed like ocean swells, I did not notice the palace. But when I was stopped by a soldier, what I saw took my breath away.

Joshua ben-David's builders had to have cleared out several blocks of Israeli residences just to lay the foundation. Rising ten stories in the air, the roof of the structure was supported by pillars that were almost Roman in appearance, ornately decorated with an extravagance reminiscent of Baroque cathedrals, minus the human sculptures. The gold-trimmed roof line was a cross between a Muslim mosque and a Japanese pagoda. Every one of the too-numerous windows was framed in gold, and the glass entryway was at least fifty feet high. The building sat twenty-five yards behind a high metal fence that was probably electrified and most definitely well guarded. Clearly, Joshua ben-David was a man who loved opulent living. And security.

I asked a stout middle-aged man standing next to me what was happening. I was not sure if the surprise that registered on the man's round face was because I had spoken Hebrew, or because he thought that only a boob could possibly not know what had caused such a stir. I smiled and explained that I was a reporter, and that seemed to satisfy him.

He scratched his chin, and his thick black beard swallowed his fingers up to the second knuckle. "The two blasphemers just left," he said, nodding to indicate their direction. "We are waiting to hear what King ben-David has planned for those false prophets."

I stood on my toes and tried to see where the two men might have gone.

The Israeli tugged on my sleeve. "You won't see them," he said. "They are like the wind. They come and go as they please, and no one stops them." He raised his eyebrows when I told him of my intention to interview them. He said, "Has a man ever caught the wind?"

The big glass front doors opened, and a medium-built man in a dark suit stepped out, followed by four body guards. As he walked toward the gate, his steps seemed a little unsteady. I had only met Joshua Cohen once before, on the day I interviewed him following Ezekiel's War. Even though he stands less than an inch taller than I, King ben-David is an imposing figure. His youthful, chiseled features hide a keener intellect than any I've ever encountered. He is the shrewdest diplomat I know, as evidenced by the peace he has almost singlehandedly brought to the war-torn Middle East. Joshua ben-David is a man who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it.

The crowd cheered--we all did--at the approach of King ben-David, ruler of a third of the planet and the most powerful man on earth. Our cheers gradually died down as the king stood in the open gate and held up his hands for silence. King Joshua lowered his arms, and an almost supernatural hush fell on us, as if our lives depended on what this man would say.

He paused. I noticed that his normally dark face looked ashen, as if he had just been frightened.

When he spoke, I jumped at the sound. Then I realized he was wearing a hidden microphone that transmitted to a concealed sound system somewhere, though I could not tell even where the loudspeakers were. The overall effect, even demystified, was quite astounding. This god-like voice that resounded and reverberated in the streets and soared over the crowd noise seemingly emanated from a man who stood only five feet nine inches tall.

"Children of Israel," he began in perfect Oxford English, "and children of earth. You are all curious, as you should be, about the two men who left this place moments ago. You are perhaps a little disturbed that they were able to overcome my security measures and walk directly into the royal palace. Some of you, I believe, are even angry at the arrogant presumption of these men to accost your king so." He smiled. "I share your sentiments."

A light chuckle swept through the crowd, and the tension I had felt seconds ago vanished like a cloud of steam in the kitchen. The king paused before continuing.

"You may all rest assured, however, that at no time were we in any danger. We granted the men a brief audience, during which time they expressed their displeasure at our rule, much as you saw them do yesterday in the Court of Israel. Only this time, no one died. They are a strong force, these enemies of Israel, these enemies of the truth. But they will not succeed. For I, Messiah ben-David, will be their peace, even as I have brought peace to the children of Abraham."

At this, a shout ensued that was so loud I had to cover my ears. I turned around and saw even more people in the crowd than before. Where did they all come from? Then, from somewhere on my left, a chant started and spread like the wave at a football game: "Hosanna! Hosanna!" These secular Israelis, most of whom had a religious nature equal to the gang lords in the American Midwest, now shouted praises to their long-awaited Messiah. His face having regained its color, the man who used to be Joshua Cohen, European diplomat, basked in the glow of his native nation's adoration.

It may have been my imagination--to this day I am still unsure--but at that moment, it seemed that King Joshua ben-David was physically transformed. He became bigger than life, and I was struck with the sudden, irrational impression that he was invincible. For a few brief moments, I forgot about the disaster promised by the Black Knight. I was filled with an unexplainable sense of security in the presence of King Joshua. As long as he reigned, there were no insurmountable odds, no solutions he could not give us. No mere meteorite could destroy us. And all any of us knew was that as long as he lived, there would be peace and prosperity first for the nation of Israel, then for the world.

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